Passion and Danger
by Ria Cullen
Summary: Remember that amazing scene where Stefan discovers Elena in the apartment he lived in during the 1920's? Well, this is my interpretation of what was running through Stefan and Elena's minds during that suspenseful and sweet moment. o/s


_A/N: So this is my first TVD fanfic, and even though I am very pro Delena, I had to expand on this scene with Stefan and Elena because I was so moved by it the first (and fifth) time I watched it. The title is that of the awesome Stelena score by Michael Suby. _

_Takes place in 3X03 "The End of the Affair" when Klaus brings Stefan to his apartment from the 1920's._

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Passion and Danger

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**STEFAN**

"Do you feel that?" Klaus whispered as he cautiously and silently entered the apartment. His eyes scanned the dust-coated room. "Is anybody here?"

At first I didn't understand what he was referring to. I figured his senses were far more advanced than mine, fine-tuned over his thousand years. But with a half a step into my old apartment, the familiar scent hit me. I'd know it anywhere, even in the most contrasting settings such as this musty room which has been abandoned since the 1920's. More than that, I could sense her in a less tangible way, like a current streaming through me. Why had Elena been in here? I realized that she never would have found this place on her own.

I warned Damon to keep her away from me. Klaus couldn't know she was still alive. It would ruin everything. If I wasn't trying so desperately to put as much space as possible in between myself and my bother, I'd stake him without blinking. Why did he have to unearth his humanity _now_? This would be so much easier if he would revert to the old Damon- the Damon who didn't give a shit about me, the Damon who was more than willing to take Elena off my hands for me. _Now_ he chooses to be the brother I'd previously hoped for him to become.

_Damn you, Damon._

"It's been vacant for decades; people must break in all the time," I assured Klaus, trying to keep my tone nonchalant. His expression relaxed slightly, but he continued to walk further into the small space. "Why did you bring me here?"

* * *

**ELENA**

My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that the resulting pulsations in my ear were deafening. My entire body shook and my palms were slick with sweat. I cowered in the closet, clutching Stefan's journal to my chest, willing myself to remain silent despite my quickened breathing. The sounds of my panic seemed to reverberate in the confined space, amplifying them. If Klaus found me, I would be his new captive, and Stefan would be killed because of me.

I could hear the edge in Klaus' voice as he stalked through the apartment. There was no fooling him; it was only a matter of time before he sniffed me out. But he was not alone- Stefan. I was grateful for whatever bits of luck I had left to be able to hear his voice one last time. But it wasn't as I remembered him. Stefan sounded distant and cold. I told myself that it was all an act. He was only playing his part for Klaus, he hadn't changed. After all, I was holding the evidence in my hands. I knew who Stefan really was, despite his past. For over thirty years he had worked with Lexi, fighting to become the person I knew him as. There was no way that Klaus could unravel him in a matter of months.

"Your friend, Liam Grant," I heard Klaus say, "the one who drank his wife's blood- I never could figure out why you wanted his name. And then you told me your little secret. It was all part of your special little ritual."

"To write it down," Stefan whispered.

"And relive the kill, over and over again."

* * *

**STEFAN**

Klaus glided over to a built-in bookcase and used his fingertips to pry the hidden doorway open. "You believe me now?" He asked me with a look that I could only describe as admiration mixed with his usual smugness.

Behind the open bookcase, I eyed the shelves stocked with dusty bottles of booze. I always kept a full stock then, but not to keep the cravings at bay like my brother. During that part of my life, I fed my desire to kill without hesitation or resistance. Alcohol served as the antidote to the remorse, guilt and shame that, every so often, tried to seep its way into my consciousness.

It was then in my peripheral vision that I caught a glimpse of movement and I heard her inhale sharply. She was trembling violently, as if every muscle in her body was begging her to run. But her eyes were steady, deep, and bore into mine. I idly wondered if it was me she feared. What a stupid question, of course she feared me. She may have gleaned glimpses of my past alter ego from the old Gilbert journals, but they had hardly scratched the surface. Elena leaned against the wall marked with hundreds of names of those I tore to pieces just for the thrill of it. I had enjoyed it. I liked it so much that I wanted to always remember each individual kill. The written name allowed me to relive those moments, like Klaus had said. That wall served as my private trophy case.

Elena knew exactly what those names represented. The contrast made me sick to my stomach -the purity, kindness and good which made up Elena, with the backdrop of the proof of why I would never deserve this girl. Even more painful was looking into those brown eyes. They conveyed the kind of love that could force the air from my lungs and break my heart into a million fragments in a single moment. How could she continue to love me? Why couldn't she make this easier on me and just hate me for being the monster that I was, that I am?

I knew it was time for Plan B. Damon was right; I had to deal with Elena myself. He had been trying to keep this from her most of the summer, but she would never give up now. If I knew anything about this girl, it would be that she is incredibly stubborn and an incorrigible martyr. I had to give Elena a reason to stop looking for me. Elena would do anything for the people she cares about. I needed her to stop caring about me.

* * *

**ELENA**

Stefan was here. He was really here, not two feet away from me. My body continued to shake despite an overwhelming feeling of relief. I knew I should be afraid; Klaus was only steps away and he was already suspicious, but I couldn't bring myself to care anymore. Stefan was here with me. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to hit him out of anger for leaving me. I wanted to lock my arms around his neck and never let go. I wanted to plead with him to come home and explain how much I still loved him. How absolutely frustrating it was to not be able to do any of these things. All I could do was stare at him and hope that my eyes conveyed all the things I needed to tell him.

There was something different about him, though. He looked colder, darker. His face was mask-like. Bottom-line, he didn't look happy to see me. Stefan was angry with me. I instantly feet terribly naïve for thinking I would be able to grab his hand and bring him back to Mystic Falls with me. What if Damon was wrong and he wasn't sacrificing himself to Klaus? Stefan wasn't being compelled, he had his free will, in yet he chose to stand with Klaus. What if I had spent the last few months searching for someone who didn't want to be found?

Stefan continued to stare silently at me, his eyes hard. My mouth went dry, as I was no longer sure of what he was capable. His eyes were still locked with mine as he spoke.

"Look what I found."

My mouth gaped open in shock and I took in a quick breath. I readied myself for a fight even though I knew it would be pointless… but then Stefan pulled his gaze away from me, grabbing a bottle. My head was spinning with adrenaline as he turned toward Klaus and shut the door behind him. I was left alone in the darkness. Just like that, Stefan was once again out of my life. The entire meeting must have lasted mere seconds, but that was all it took to flip my world upside-down.

* * *

**STEFAN**

Careful to keep my expression neutral, I handed the alcohol to Klaus. I hoped this would serve as an adequate distraction. It was difficult to find a vampire who wasn't a lush and Klaus was no exception. He inspected the label with that stupid grin I had grown to despise.

"1918," he said. "Single malt. My favorite." He looked to me with his face still smug, feeling good about his accomplishment of reminding me of my worst self. "Let's go and find someone to pair it with," he suggested as he ambled out of the apartment.

I could hear the faint beating of Elena's heart as I followed him out the door.

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_Thanks for reading! _


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